


mistletoe

by Penda



Series: mistletoe & honeysuckle [2]
Category: LazyTown
Genre: Intermission, M/M, Relationship Discussions, what is glanni? we just don't know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 12:11:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9895940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penda/pseuds/Penda
Summary: “What do you mean 'I'm not human?' ” Glanni demanded, jumping up from the bed. “Of course I'm human, look at me!”“Well, that's not a very good indicator is it,” replied Íþróttaálfurinn, gesturing to himself.“Yes, but you've got the ears, I don't have the ears!” Glanni cried shrilly, clapping his hands over the side of his head.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for all the lovely comments on the previous fic! I'm glad you all enjoyed it, and I have many more things planned for this series. In the meantime, here is a little intermission before I start on the next big installment.

By the time Íþróttaálfurinn made it back to the balloon Glanni had fallen asleep. He didn't even wake up when Íþróttaálfurinn climbed into the basket with him. He slept all the way back to LazyTown, and Íþróttaálfurinn, who had thrown the blanket over him, kept stealing glances at his sleeping face while he steered and smiling to himself.

When he set the basket down the children ran over to it, obviously having missed him during their morning routine. They shrieked excitedly when they caught sight of Glanni asleep in the basket and Íþróttaálfurinn shushed them hurriedly. Glanni, by some miracle, stayed asleep. Promising the children an explanation soon (thought what he was going to tell them he had no idea), he carried Glanni back into the hotel, pointedly ignoring the curious looks from the owner and headed back up to their room.

He set Glanni gently on the bed, and he rolled over immediately, making himself comfortable. Íþróttaálfurinn laughed softly to himself. He pulled of Glanni's shoes and picked up the duvet from the floor where he had left it just this morning. It already felt like a lifetime ago. He settled the blanket over Glanni and picked up the other pillow from the floor, putting it back on the bed. He stood back, watching his boyfriend (?) sleep.

He should go outside and see the kids, make sure they hadn't missed their morning routine. He gazed longingly at the empty space beside Glanni. Íþróttaálfurinn didn't take naps. But on the other hand, he had spent the morning running up a mountain, and it had been a strange couple of weeks. Just this once, he thought, toeing off his shoes and setting his hat on the bedside table. He took of his breastplate and slipped in beside Glanni, who threw an arm over him in his sleep. Íþróttaálfurinn smiled. Just this once.

\---

Glanni had woken up feeling _fantastic_. He hadn't slept that well in years. Even better he had woken up to find a very warm body in bed with him. Íþróttaálfurinn had woken up just a few minutes after he had and had leaned over to kiss him lazily which had been _great_.

Glanni had stretched luxuriously, made an offhand comment about how it had made him feel more human, and Íþróttaálfurinn had opened his big mouth and said “Yes, about that...”

Glanni's post-nap afterglow had been well and truly ruined.

“What do you mean 'I'm not human?' ” Glanni demanded, jumping up from the bed. “Of _course_ I'm human, look at me!”

“Well, that's not a very good indicator is it,” replied Íþróttaálfurinn, gesturing to himself.

“Yes, bet you've got the ears, I don't have the ears!” Glanni cried shrilly, clapping his hands over the side of his head.

“It would explain a lot to be honest,” Íþróttaálfurinn went on, stroking his moustache absently.

Glanni gaped at him. “Like what?!”

"Well it would probably explain how your lifestyle hasn't killed you yet-”

“Hey!”

“-Why your disguises are so good, even though all you do is put on a different outfit-”

“That takes skill!”

“-How you always manage to escape facing any serious consequences for your actions-”

“That is my natural charm at work!”

“-And why I couldn't leave you alone in the first place despite the type of person you are-”

Glanni fell quiet, something cold and sickly settling in his stomach.

“It was because I knew there was something different about you!” Íþróttaálfurinn went on, talking mostly to himself, oblivious to Glanni's sudden silence.

He continued, but Glanni wasn't listening. He was too busy thinking about how Íþróttaálfurinn had just said he was only interested in him because he (apparently) was not human. Glanni's thoughts struggled for coherency, but stuttered to a halt somewhere around 'my boyfriend is only interested in my magic'. Íþróttaálfurinn was still talking. Glanni could see him gesturing a lot from the corner of his eye. He had no idea what he was talking about now.

Suddenly, he wished he were anywhere but here. That the room would just- wink out around him and he could be somewhere else. He blinked. There was an odd feeling, like he was being squeezed, followed by an atmospheric pop. When he opened his eyes he was no longer standing in the hotel room with Íþróttaálfurinn, but was in what looked liked his favourite bar in PrideTown. Oh. Apparently he could just wish himself to different places if felt like it. When he was done feeling like shit he might be quite excited about that bit. Maybe this magic thing wouldn't be so bad after all.

He walked up to the bar and settled himself onto a stool. He had no shoes on and no money but honestly it wasn't the first time he'd been in a situation like this. He scanned the bar, eyeing potential flirting targets. He'd found looking lonely and attractive to be the best way to get free drinks out of people.

In the meantime the numerous thoughts he'd been trying to avoid vied for attention inside his head.

First and foremost was how he seemed to have gained and lost a boyfriend in less than 24 hours. Impressive even for him; his shortest relationship had been 3 days and his longest a month. It also hurt a hell of a lot more than he thought it would, and if he didn't get some drinks in him soon there might be tears involved. At least he wasn't wearing any make up that could run.

Second of all, was that his probably-not-anymore boyfriend was in fact, an elf. A real, actual elf. Elves were real. God he needed that drink.

Thirdly, was that some sort of magical flower child had taken up residence in his brain for the better part of two weeks, and the paranoid haze of anxiety that had driven him to put a very dangerous man in jail had been all her fault. Not only that, but he had felt _sorry_ for her afterwards. He was still a little blurry on some of the details about that actually, and trying to bring them into focus made his head spin.

He leaned his elbows on the bar.

And fourthly, that he, Glanni Glæpur, who had spent his life happily safe in the knowledge that he knew who he was, did not in fact know who he was. Because, much like his elf-not-boyfriend, there were people in this world who were not in fact human. And Glanni was one of them.

He put his head in his hands. He _really_ needed a drink.

A pair of expensive shoes clicked to a stop at the stool next to him. The owner said something to the bartender and a moment later a drink was slid in front of him.

“You looked like you needed it,” the woman said sympathetically.

 _Thank god_ , he thought.

 

He was about 3 and a half drinks down and was just entering the pleasantly lowered inhibitions stage of drunk when he felt a warm, familiar hand curl around his upper arm.

“Excuse me,” a voice said, with forced cheer. “I need to borrow him.”

He followed, if only because it was less effort than protesting, but he was pleased to notice the nice young lady who had been plying him with drinks and conversation about shoes looked disappointed at his departure. Íþróttaálfurinn found a quiet corner for them to sit in.

“Glanni, what the hell was that?” he demanded as soon as they were seated.

“I was getting free drinks,” he said blithely taking a sip to demonstrate.

“You were _flirting_ with her.” He sounded upset. _Good_.

“I don't see what you're so upset about,” he said icily. "We never discussed the parameters of our ' _relationship_ '." The word tasted sour in his mouth.

Íþróttaálfurinn faltered. "Well- no, we didn't but-"

“Besides, you're only giving me the time of day because I'm 'not human' apparently.” He moved to take another drink but Íþróttaálfurinn pulled the glass out of his hands.

“I didn't say that!” Íþróttaálfurinn said, sounding dismayed.

“Did too!”

“Did-look,” Íþróttaálfurinn set the glass down. “I'm- I'm not always good with my words-”

Glanni snorted, and tried to steal his drink back, not interested in the elf's excuses. Íþróttaálfurinn moved it away from him.

“I just meant that I could tell there was something...different about you, when we first met.”

Glanni scowled at the table top. He scooted a coaster through the condensation left by his glass just for something to do. He ran his finger through the wet streaks it had left behind.

“Yes, I admit, I got a little- overexcited when I found out that you had magic-” Íþróttaálfurinn went on, haltingly, “but- it's just that it- filled in a lot of gaps, to be honest. I didn't mean that it was the only reason I liked you. I love you Glanni, I mean it.”

Glanni fidgeted under Íþróttaálfurinn's sincere gaze.

“Well, forgive me if it was a lot to take in,” he sniffed, snatching his drink back and downing the last of it. “Suddenly finding out I'm not _human,_ on top of _-_ on top of everything else. _”_

Íþróttaálfurinn fortunately did not say anything as he waited for Glanni to compose himself.

“You couldn't trust me, after everything,” he said quietly, after Glanni had finished discreetly wiping his face on a napkin.

“You really thought that I would- that I would only want to be with you for that reason?” Íþróttaálfurinn sounded _hurt_. Glanni _refused_ to feel guilty about that.

“No one made you come and find me,” he spat, still not willing to be swayed into civil conversation. At least if they had an argument it would give him an excuse to storm out and never come back.

“I promised,” he said, softly, looking over to meet Glanni's eyes. Glanni had forgotten about that actually. Oops.

“That doesn't mean anything! Promises get broken every day! People say lots of things they don't mean.”

“Not me,” Íþróttaálfurinn said, still soft, too soft. Glanni would take shouting over this any day. Shouting he could handle.

“Why didn't you trust me?” he asked. Glanni growled quietly in frustration.

“I can't just- go from not having _anyone_ in my life to _immediately_ letting you in – it's not-” he gestured vaguely in front of him trying to find the words. “It's not like flipping a switch, I cant just- you can't _make_ me trust you- either it'll happen eventually or it won't. There are some things you can't control.”

Íþróttaálfurinn mulled this over.

“OK, new rule,” he said, turning to Glanni resolutely.

“Oh, I'm sick of rules,” Glanni whined, trying to slide out of his chair to avoid the rest of their conversation.

“Indulge me,” Íþróttaálfurinn said, scooting closer and taking Glanni's hand. “We talk to each other.” Glanni pulled a face. “If I do something wrong, _tell me_ , and I'll do the same for you. If something comes up, we make sure we're both on the same page. Deal?”

Glanni considered. He sighed. He was in far, far, too deep to back out from this now.

“Deal.”

He tugged Íþróttaálfurinn forward by his scarf and kissed him, perhaps a little too deeply than was appropriate for a public setting. Íþróttaálfurinn didn't complain.

They sat in silence for a long moment after that and Glanni stared at their fingers, tangled loosely together. He still wasn't entirely sure he wasn't having a very prolonged hallucination.

“We're going to be doing this a lot aren't we?” he said at last, the weight of it settling over him heavily. Now he knew how Atlas felt.

“What?” Íþróttaálfurinn asked, cocking his head adorably.

“This-the-” he gestured between them, “the arguing, the fucking up, whatever it is we're doing right now. This isn't going to be the last time we do this, is it?” It was alarming to hear the note of sadness in his own voice as he said this.

Íþróttaálfurinn pursed his lips. “I think,” he said slowly, “ I think that's normal. It just means that we have some things to figure out. Anyway, I'm sure between the town hero and a criminal mastermind we can figure it out.” His moustache twitched as he smiled and his eyes did that crinkly thing that Glanni hated- _loved_ \- so much.

Glanni kissed him again because he could.

“We should have a code word,” Íþróttaálfurinn said when they pulled back.

 Glanni frowned. “You mean a safe word?”

“ _No_ , I mean for if we need to work things out, or talk, or if one of us needs space-”

“This still sounds like a safe word.”

“It's not a safe word!” Íþróttaálfurinn yelled, a little too loudly. He blushed ducking his head and continuing more quietly. “Truce word, then.”

“That's an awful phrase.”

“Well that's what I'm calling it!” he snapped.

Glanni snickered, glad that antagonising Íþróttaálfurinn hadn't lost it's entertainment value.

“So that if we need to talk about something, or if we start arguing we can stop it before it gets out of hand.”

Glanni thought of all the arguments he'd had over the years. The very heated arguments. “I don't think that's going to work,” he said doubtfully.

“Well, it can't hurt either,” Íþróttaálfurinn persisted.

Glanni sighed. The things one did for love. “Fine, what did you have in mind?”  
“How about mistletoe?”

“You're never going to let that go are you?”

Íþróttaálfurinn laughed and Glanni felt oddly proud that he had been the one to make him do it.

“That's not why- well OK, it's partly why- but mistletoe was once used as a- a symbol, for meeting places where no violence could take place.” He shrugged. “It seemed fitting.”

It was, but Glanni wasn't going to admit that.

“OK. Mistletoe, good, fine, whatever. I don't know how to process all of this,” he said as flippantly as he could manage.

“Well, you don't have to do it alone you know.” Íþróttaálfurinn said, squeezing his hand.

“That's one of the things I have to process.”

“Oh.”

Íþróttaálfurinn looked down at their hands. Glanni narrowed his eyes at him. He tightened his grip.

“Don't even _think_ about letting go,” he hissed, pouting at his _boyfriend_.

“Whatever you want Glanni,” Íþróttaálfurinn said smiling, and Glanni knew that _meant_ it.

He leaned into Íþróttaálfurinn's side, still not letting go of his hand.

“Glanni?”

“Hm?”

“Where are your shoes?”


End file.
